In the Bee Latitudes 9780520952379

Citation preview

In the Bee Latitudes

This page intentionally left blank

’ A n nah

Sobe l m a n

In the Bee Latitudes

University of California Press

Berkeley Los Angeles London

University of California Press, one of the most distinguished university presses in the United States, enriches lives around the world by advancing scholarship in the humanities, social sciences, and natural sciences. Its activities are supported by the UC Press Foundation and by philanthropic contributions from individuals and institutions. For more information, visit www.ucpress.edu. University of California Press Berkeley and Los Angeles, California University of California Press, Ltd. London, England © 2012 by The Regents of the University of California Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Sobelman, ‘Annah. In the bee latitudes / ’Annah Sobelman. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references. isbn 978-0-520-27306-1 (pbk. : alk. paper) I. Title. PS3569.O25.I5 2012 811'.54—dc23

2011040191

Manufactured in the United States of America 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

12

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of ansi/niso z39.48-1992 (r 2002) (Permanence of Paper).

for the beloved souls in my life including my mother , Viana Belida Knutson Sobelman in human form & Jacob , Emma , Melissa , Alice of the Palace , Mirandello such a Cello , and Rebeccarina Ballerina in dog and cat form all of whom helped me write this book & the trees i sang to

,

who sing back

This page intentionally left blank

Contents

Proem 3

Structure — Masolino ’ s Eve — The Female Snake I

7

The Ghosts Are Different From the Love of Some Brains

8

In the Bee Latitudes

11

The Untitled

12

The Mess

13

Midnight Address from the President

14

Violence of Feathers

15

Ode to the Surfacing

18

If A Commandment

19

Dandelions for the Threnody

31

After Awhile

32

Summer ; — Fatigue ; — A Direction , Up ; — and A Spreading Out Unlawed II ( notes from inside a dark forest )

40

for whomever whispers

41

delay is nevertheless

42

a persona of there you go

43

forest nightingale makes more

44

Quick Draft

45

fresh to make

46

oh pilgrim

47

see , it ’ s the no horizon III

51

I Felt a Fierce Unfreedom

54

The Concept Death Was Walking Around This Pill Sentence Structure

55

It Has Been Given Me To Understand Bats

57

No Unconceiving Cave

58

And I Do Desire Your Looking Back

61

It is Very Sculptural to Wake Up

62

The Be Thou Gaia Pastoral Air

77

Not On Its Own

78

Quick Draft 2

79

A Physics of Desire

80

In the Bee Latitudes 2

82

Curved Over the River

83

‡ ° § £ ¢ ∞ § / the haloes on the Barbizon night lanterns

84

Concerning the Ode to a Focus Then a Free Fall

89

Acknowledgments

91

Notes

93

My Thanks

Proem

This page intentionally left blank

S t r u c t u re — M a s o l i n o ’ s E v e — The Female Snake

: ~ a springy fire set inside pear prickles the vocative , a now bubble now that’s a thing   your nervous system might have been one of the paths on the Tree on earth , oddly like as night where she was  musing , under sap , blazed in here , hushed in under cover of    ,  , : ~ a springy fire sets arm in arm on the athlete sea of interpretation bushes where the moon was waxing under sap , here we make up the arbornauts travelling around the islands and the forests-of-summers amateurs we called ourselves ~ a forno with which to scratch her nickname , soften a groove into a belt trout pan , her initials into how a highway feels ; ~ : ~ taking space out hanging it up along the clotheslines in that hour of the trees : ~ the Brancacci chapel winds might have been one of the paths of the tree Blazed in here , hushed in here under cover of painting : ~ The springy fire set by one long experience on earth , , On earth , through that roar gap makes through trees ’ velvet amateurs : ~ no longer ashamed to be a tree-like belly the I is laid upon , as if emblazoned in vowels it must be the poise of the Linden leaves he is swimming with : ~ it might have been a structural tense upbraiding in and out of her saying what is the plural of one that on their lapping undersides snake eggs lay their little heads ——

3

This page intentionally left blank

I

This page intentionally left blank

The Ghosts Are Different From the Love of Some Brains

the doves float above the street , back and forth and back again until one white female sticks to the windowpane . Hammerhead of love landing on the skull with its calcium cartons , hunting for prey on the ledges ? — in the cartoons , the slim shell of bone opens and the brains gush ‘ forth ’— Do the doves feel elected by what is sticky ? It isn’t that you didn ’ t want to be materialized at least as corporeal as snow the Solstice loves ; — but so do ghosts the most frozen parts of winter bleed into — fall into us , they ’ ll beg , almost soundproof room profound pale skinniness through which no one else can shove — You are sympathetic to the pursuit of a surface that will not try to capture you and call itself love —

7

In the Bee Latitudes

Once the length of the sun gets stuck on my breasts ( Patti Smith wails out milk rather than purple on the other side of the bee culture ) my mouth does not tilt as much toward the nightlife layers of vowels and consonants before they get said , a passionate and preverbal shattering of one ’ s ideas of restraint such as the children I may, or may not give birth to— anyway , I had tasted the length of the sun in the milky substances which tilt toward high yellower layers — Later more in the mouth itself as longing — Later in the longness of sky above and beside , in female brain , of male brain , a mouth now full of sun which is not yet purple , still not colour yet itself , part of the body ’ s fullest future which the sun and I cannot seem to get

8

to the end of — But , once a mouth gets filled with the purple or , gets stuck for awhile on another human ’ s breasts , it feels newborn and erotic to suck on the beginning in this way whose round long droopings have this lush purple birthmark on one of their sides , and do not overshadow the face with aqua milkiness ardour as , if they’d been tasted , our mothers ’ breasts might have done — I sucked and sucked anyway the way I do on one who looks like my idea of Virgil — a sun outside his knees — hiking into the hills of purple , gathering bees for later — Etruscan smelling ! — ( my beginning also contemplative with the preverbal / is where the sun and the mosquitoes smell more like the other side of the bee culture ) ; the mild awakeness feeling of lying in a hammock even overshadowing my mouth to muteness , for a while — The length of sun and its tastes give to the human and some parts of

9

my unhuman world , our futures — their full yellow valour are glints . And we have had consciences of purple , ( except in that haloing around bees which give their multishades to many many many many , with a shove ) oh , now less than a full destination further off , throbbling —

10

The Untitled

To have the young gods and banish the old —

But

when I think of the open sight of my father’s skin my father’s open body / my flesh rolls back in pain shoots lightning arrows through my groin as a music , too , storm-stained terrible lit my heart turns over to think of his tongue touching the naked nerve of mine so I begin to think wanting everything as I do that there are certain openings portals you cannot imagine without falling down the back cellars and collapsing tunnels of his mouth’s swollen navy pounding blue-red blood rasping touch of thick & delicate skin & mixing together of the boiling / separate oceans you cannot imagine without unraveling the careful nucleic cell structure of your life / back through human form to shapelessness a beginning isn ’ t home I didn’t want to travel through that tunnel of backwards blood backwards backwards backwards lights and I did — I do

11

The Mess

and yes it was spreading our legs to heart ’ s desire , I was sure ,— A year of one idea , toward spring — A casual insomnia . But an underbrush exploded . You open its year-long window it doesn ’ t show much — Some humans ! drown and alternately sleep — you drown , toward spring , you sleep That ’ s the thing , your neck stretched way past your body lethal , the stretch — It ’ s all happening without witness . Mothers around the world complain . Fathers in the economy cafe drink pink cocktails past noon . Your computer ’ s always breaking . You ducttape it . The landscape doesn ’ t show itself to you .

12

Midnight Address from the President

1 No one knows — I had a premonition the starry children would be turning into small U.S. flags —I had hoped to raise them — 2 the questions I put to the side when I sit by the fireplace in a fancy thinking I could ’ ve been a long splendour icicle — sometimes in grammar I had hoped I had starry children in me — hanging off the eaves , current, being struck by a sunbeam 3 I could ’ ve lived in seriotaneity — struck by the spot up there that looks like China — I could have had sideburns — winter is too nude — I have a droxology in mind 4 as commas come from a daughter ’ s point of view —once in a while I am shocked with the taste of too much winter mint— could have known more of how not to use stock — put on my white cooker’s hat —hmmm fingers to my lip-lines — 5 Mint on my tastebuds has snow flurries of afterducts — but when I think about Condoleeza Rice I get up to make soup — feel my mouth forming around a new two-syllable nude word like the naiude 6 — All starry children are the interesting ones who petition —

december 2001 13

Violence of Feathers

the sky is clean because it ’ s been scraped by the pigeons— When you blink again you ’ re going down fast — because you ’ v e been dropped from the onslaught of shhhsh , ,— flap , the violence carries you almost all the way down — You stink and feel a lot like the sky especially in the sharp way the pigeons grabbed you— — Velocity of wound means you ’ ve been listening to your full clear extent— Rapid & splanchnic you feel clean because you ’ve been cut with the pigeons ’ feet , feel clear because you know that your face will keep peeling down to the things —

14

wettest , most serious

Ode to the Surfacing

And , shall I harvest the sunflowers , the ones with magpies that haven’t begun to blossom yet ? Or the ones with petals already fallen face-down unimperious on their yellowness without many flaws ? — Or those with the bumblebees on top of the center , or those with the bees — like lovers under neath of the heavier sides of their petal yellow without sutures but dropping , and more here with their weight just as I’m about to take them ? — Which sunflowers shall I take with me , which sunflowers shall I leave ? Walking here ‘ amongst ’ some at breast height with their yellow effulgent stridency drooping , some with their risen phallic centers that large bumblebees temporarily not rigid fasten on to which my head passes , bending down — And my hands moving beside me holding scissors in one hand passing them to the other hand — walking outside on top of patches — And clods of dirt — And the clavicles neckbones breast bones I’m unaware of , and my whole body ( amongst me ) walking onto long grass patches and their dark voluble mortality surface , which earth which is vastly inside

15

grows , , Then for some time more , walking on top of eternity here

though not past

a surface I called imped iment , or weight of father ’ s body , for awhile , looking closer at your close-athand immense predominate unheld clods and lumps of dirt , and rock , and yellow petals , and leaves , and tongues ( later , at your grace like clusters of surface )— What else shall the bouquet I put these scissors to do but try to harvest a risen-up enough surface such as lovers ? or the other you , eternity ? — Or moving to which we ’ re tethered in through then out of a bereft — advancing loudly as it can towards the magpie diving among the standing sunflowers upright on their stalks towards three made sparrows & I among them as if I ’ ve given birth to you all ,

16

even my father but I haven’t — Why wouldn ’ t eternity be one of the surfaces since I am marked by it ? Why wouldn’t you ? Then which of you shall I leave yellow longer ? Then which of you shall I take where you just join the surface , and liberate you from ? —

17

If A Commandment

murders the mother the father gains more sky some lights still undressing you , will if a personal dad dies fierce chemistry is not the necessary agonia so you invert soil not heaven invert the dark forest ___________________

18

judge

/

Dandelions for the Threnody

1

— Then looking while I’m walking outside in air like a muscle ( inside and outside the random sprinkling of full-grown dandelions near the river , the life just above the ankles , not eternity , some of the dandelions spraying their yellow into their biggest fullest overflow and after this no place left to go fuller which is still their most excruciated , ascendant unrecalcitrant , to the limits to the exact precipice falling stepping off after which is not dandelion ) I find

19

myself being lavished all out in my glance , almost as air , over these dandelions and through the wind in the air near the river blowing out from its circumference though I cannot discern where its center

20

2 is — lavished all over the withering of the dandelions’ centers’ unsolemn flamboyant outward’s dropping — point after point after fullness — after italics — I am not in love — after the moving yellow drains off away from the center which I see is not rigid — lavished out upon its dry pale taupe tongue ’ s blowing radius of spikes with an extremity very like feathers’ susceptible vulnerability to air changes away from and into

21

3 this river already exceeding some limits it has grown through air , and through the water , where it ’ s been melting its firmament in the mountains in the cavities in their heavy lava mineral breath where this river beneath this world air with its anvil beard of gravity , has been inscribing its bed in the shape of its overflow — And even into air rushing into me in bigger gulps was I lavished saying dandelion butterfly to flesh out the feel of the words to see how much more air gets into my mouth and words where I say them , and into where the air seems

22

to covet lungs , tongue , the words , the mouth —Or when I said air cannot be overflow because there is not any re maining place without , also lavished ( brown , fluttering against windowpane box ) and where I turn to beyond / on the amber river dandelions overflow their yellow dandelions with the wind in them / overflow like old hair scattering their shreds along out of their white dying heads — Though

23

4 the air didn’t stir . Didn’t seem to be a government . Didn’t seem to choose — made no shape out of or around itself neither imperial nor victim — Didn’t seem to be in shambles — it’s morning to which I am devoted though I have , here , little fear — Morning air as always continued and didn ’ t seem to shed itself in order to continue sinking always into all sinkholes and points between my fingers where I pointed — forgot to point , sometimes altogether forgot my fingers — This is because flowing out of ourselves , we over-

24

flowed — This is because air is not a fabric , a hurdle — Accomodating , accomodating , not ever seeming to accord — And continuing to fall away from the self .

25

5 This sea of air ( though with more looseness and taut with no lesions I can feel ) still making its bed around my hands putting them on some off-off white density but with coolness rising drama of

the untamed aspen

sapling growing up , up over shadows ’ mid lilac leaves filaments flowerets window bumps

26

branches

beneficiary-

fur of a bee up up whom this latticed kitchen

twice furiously against ! then a stranger approaching , — over him , his right brown arm raising itself to inquire , — among aspens flickered with sunlight shunting its whitest points on to their chartreuse limed deliciously wind disheveled leaves becoming an almost blinding question

because so much light just got

reflected back out around shadows — One’s eyes slip against them without trellises ( more details ) into which

of more —

27

looking can

get absorbed and lavished

more

into , all of us finding ourselves bed for you air , and this towards us in your

28

stranger still moving closer

6 grip — Why should either air or eternity stop flooding in ? ( over here , says a father ; over here , like a large huge run-off says someone other ) — what more in me is empty you should ’ ve been spilling yourself into ? What more in you ? Why should I not call either of you overflows ? And as I listen both voices are still spilling with their overflows because there must be a place without air for which air penetrates ; there must be a place / alti -

29

tude / a question for which air and eternity , ignites and bursts itself farther in

30

After Awhile

what breaks sentence structure joins friends

into

the bitterness this morning singing sing the childless heart -stopping , stop . what your depression felt like , your drowned tower suddenly above water

.

i can tell you what not —

it

is

31

Summer ; — Fatigue ; — A Direction , Up ; — and A Spreading Out Unlawed

1 — Yet sitting with so little blood leaving me to cause this fatigue , on top of the picnic table my ankles are now over its precipice

of

at the air over its edge over even the hollow circular and flat thin stalks and grass blades growing fast with so much speed no hurry I can see beneath my feet kicking into the summer air —— looking up from underneath in front of the on-

32

rushing speed of a cloud throwing its first thrust-shudders over the top edge of the mountain like I thought a spreading out of the unlawed — up from underneath its white cloud edge , especially harvested by all these fir and spruce and aspen and pine top edges

jutting fragrant fierce with

hot smell ( spill outs of their seeds ) growing the indenting of the mountain in their evergreen to blue

33

tone - scented modulatings , taperings , moorings which the now big cloud passing over also harvests push ing some kind of lawlessness

34

2 along

— — ( up

from

my feet I’ve stopped kicking , or now forget to kick , underneath the great white cloud moving at varying and breakneck speeds — Which I imagine is

moving — moving

unlawed though I am not imagine out from its nature but it

is not a law passing over meta-

the air waves the satellite dish the

llic meticulous signals , , ) — I losing neither a little nor a lot of blood

—

am

over the dropped -

35

down landscape thundering along its applause sounds its green to brown to amber under neath feathering along its before-fatigue intricacy , which harvests the let me come closer in — & the sun , a windfall enabling so much of it roving the mountain from almost its very beginning to its very present height ,

the world surges

as

then

world against , out

its fast one & only speed

from into

air and the lightflow at

all smashing into

what looks like a lumpy eternity , summer

36

dives

me and the black

fly

in

windflow

against And in Though it is mortal

its engines , a repose in the and in its

bumping up ? its bumping up against . , I think also , of

moving , of of chance

collision ,

encounter until their currents , until their wakes let you

in

,

let

you

through

—

37

This page intentionally left blank

II

( notes from inside a dark forest )

Half-way upon the journey of our life I roused to find myself within a forest In darkness, for the straight way had been lost. — dante , The Divine Comedy

for

whomever

whispers NEVER ) more ( inside this

stunned

time of with

waiting salts shoulders more bare sun

on the double - barreled titan backs of

40

heavy air

delay is nevertheless asking something today ’ s unexpected cling go inside go go go ripens / the obscured as you are a

shot di giorno

indenting report

/ its

41

a persona of there

you

now

carves

our

go out

overtures ,

whispers you ’ re out from experience listening rabidly hades ’ countenance into

42

blank

blushes

forest

nightingale makes more

it’s been flurrying

today

for

later

elliptical a or

as cause

pear arise-aroma until

next sounds

your graved (

in-

initials better )

43

Quick Draft

quick

—

so Rothko not drowning found paint

assembled the drowned

you don ’ t feel this on land ‘ shouldn ’ t ’

(

/

conditional ) ,

it ’ s the real unreachable painting hope

after

painting

is unstoryland

so

waves

water ’ s

but it ’ s the

( holy ) dose

to you ) shapelesshandlessness

44

—

weigh more than the

descripture (

evacuation

—

!

fresh . to make your waiting ritual . change your / courtesy dream of / life / voice /

45

oh pilgrim go

ahead

kiss

yourself

hard

to get at

inner elbow , timing chambers spring vulva preparing the meals (

and table

46

bare note conversation

, )

see

,

it ’ s the no

horizon

unraveling is

— that

how

speed

the spirit

walks

down by hand to stitute city ,

its

sub-

( the ) underglade

47

This page intentionally left blank

III

This page intentionally left blank

I Felt a Fierce Unfreedom

The parruchiere is brushing your hair as if you were her favorite doll . You reappear when the Primavera does . Look , these are the unfatal Celtic windows you see her coming through . Now the hands in glove thrusts mushing through the hair show so little colour on your head you have to trust your right and need to observe . Ambition , which I thought was lying under the spigot , raising its spout self today , we are eating again after fasting we ’ re

joining

the living

their right to use magnetized credit cards to see their full soul place among the crowd , the seedy the unexpected the underexposed the magnified , to see the soul of another

51

glide through the open spaces chard muscles churned with ruscilio boiling

, also the right to eat boiling

green

through the broccoli limpness of the weak regard for life chrysalis of limpness around an endive that starts out being hard — Well , in the piazza

the stagnant pee will first rise through the urethra of the Neptune’s

penis , through the liquid throat centers , the gutters as if always resurging . My armpits too will admit fluids , the medium bowl of salad will be filled with such olive oil through a genital-like spout . Warmer weather umbrellas will be unbundled — . I said I hoped to understand ( for

52

as

long as

we

live )

we

reappear with who

the

drinks her first green tea as

Primavera any one

might ,

after

being

ill —

53

The Concept Death Was Walking Around This Pill Sentence Structure

usually I say mop me up with the dreams otherwise I have no purpose white porpoise pill complements the pink ( centuries away awake ) swallows up the insomnias , awake in ’ Annah time nevertheless , we ’ re hiking up the ally slopes I don’t completely trust or could be a motherucker we hike to her house muckraker through seeingeye red we Rilke into “La Vie in Rose ” the cabin I want to build / christens purpose / your black and heelless shoes will temper airily inflict the our

soull

contradicts

54

magic city

It Has Been Given Me To Understand Bats Moon / Cantilever of sylabbles / If it were spelled ‘ mune ’ it would not —

cause madness —

Jack Spicer

someone sneezes you laugh you ’ re an advocate similar to an avocado you blare out the obvious nobody

hears

that .

you ’ re an advocate similar to a

pippistrella

hang upside down at night not content with that you sally

forth

naked unguardedly

shy

a song in your mind of

55

underworld your

above

shouts

ground

therapist

out

reverse !

56

radar

Simplify !

No Unconceiving Cave

A borderline of a new country never tells you not to laugh to find its accurate size — As if

not knowing

up close

what a fire

,,,, —

as if Greek islands didn ’ t exist — then forest fires roaring closer as they do . A cave was a point of view to contain rare ardour . No seal scale on the piazza tells you not to laugh so hard in a mouth able to be bored by dying ; though , once I could not feel the dolcezza dandelion —

57

And I Do Desire Your Looking Back

And yours — So more of your meaning bees hum against comes out — Though you are not the bee , nor like the bee who seems to move like a humming to all these moments ( though you move to many ) I see as fruit unparching with their unsubordinatingness the air pulsing around the unsuspendingness of each — which is a motion ! Air into which one of my forefingers first moves it self out into before it ’ s feeling scared to move , before it finds another occasion for an existence here called bee — beneath the olive trees , beloved the aspen , now your skin where one forefinger extends itself out on top of the gold ’ s away-from-the-throng-

58

ness into bee , or the particular — But over its major royalty action like a throne it touches and configures like a cause , the burgundy amaranthe — and your skin — and my skin ( I desire you all to touch me ) to galvanize all motions inside my fingers — your fingers — to this life upon your ear , mouth , lips , teeth and sex I’m touching to my mouth , unraveling my causing to in part

( being not your only cause ! )

oh operatic flesh ,

59

I’m among the ones who are running my palms on top of you feeling abstruse , but not abstract because your surface

has not been lost

or unimagined —

60

It is Very Sculptural to Wake Up

let her be walking into the very midst of summer in which a bird is squeaking . and she is only one chirp out . out from the midst of the bush with the lilacs ’ awakening

61

The Be Thou Gaia Pastoral Air

1 And the day starting out almost without sounds at first except for the river falling and rising in the air without pathos in the starting day especially in a spring with its run-off, elastic ponderous more living than momentum goahead over many centuries of this riverbed like an infinity—at this stage—with more splash, more plop in it more responding plash , air not seeming to have layers though I imagined a thin stratum of air over the river , over the mountains , differentiations among phalanxes , islands of air among islands I can’t take my garden spade to since air

62

slips out — But going always wanting more and to be surer that as much as possible and I inside this life might go further in than touch — That the day starting out be more than ointment in the way it touches everything and I am in it , that the air be not skin I might collide against instead of entering inside it as far as I and nature might allow — And walking outside into the kind of atmosphere which isn’t eternity , and listening to its gasp ings , surgings into

air — All morning on the

63

other side of the air , eternity is being original to its origins ,

all morning air’s being

original to

its fate — Then observing each swell into the other — watching eternity starting to

64

2 advance as

—

it might right now

start

to

take over my lawn spread to

blue

wild

islands

then

into

islands in

the

surf

of

the

mountain

beyond in -

among these white the

between

air-exerting the

bottom

attraction of

one

mountain

, and

its top

, the

in

triangle points ,

layers

more

65

will

eventually

grow

an

ensemble

exacting

wills — holds , And

66

, the

into

exacerbating

— air

.

its its

courtship

foot-

3 —,,

And the

air

suggesting things — And back at the river a few days ago I had a vision of , this frantic reaching up by the river trying to dig into air in intervals with fingernails and fingers that look energetic and timeful because they believe they’re hanging on — And the air in a

dome on top of human fingers ,

and on top of God ’s fingers

as

distance between

us

stretches toward

the other in the paintings

by

the artist who could have been up-

67

right on the scaffold , neck

but here ,

( in the dome ) , is craning back her

through the high - altitude

the underside of

luminarios

the top-curved ceiling

feeling on

which is chapel plaster wet

— And

68

4 the

time

which

might have

self

called of

might

have

heard itfather

distance heard

,

, ,

even

— or ,

skin

just

differences

that

them-

selves sky

,

called

Or you

not

being

here

( for

a

time )

me

calling

might have heard your name for it —

Might have exact

plump

heard , active

hello

piece

of change

by which

the

once

god / lump / singleness

between

69

us from

I ’ ve ,

a

been

kind

released

of being

and

departed

imagined

forward

into

centuries is

being

forgiven

,

,

is

being

judged — —

some of

us

sang I

have times

it

70

by

forgiven it , , certain

I

have distances

at

certain

judged —

But

,

touch

so

5 was the wrong

word — I did it

, but

forepowers

just now expect the day

ing

carries its gala freedoms ,

along with

its scuds ,

skids

/ / screechencounter

stones ,

tired brakes

pebbles

name

, stars

fireworks swish

to

gravel

,

the

country

on highway

asphalt ’ s exhausted

swerve swerve

swerves

—

Encounters

71

the elk I’m

and

world

in

my

and

collide

72

,

vehicle

driving his

instead

I

of

missing .

mine

6 Instead of

merging

:

one ’ s

constant coming

swells

forth

in exact

excruciated

acoustics — .

Can you

hear

your

passion

,

of you unscrambling to

its

outside

nature

, or

through

inside

occasional

missing

waxing

traffic not

from

choral

& river vibrations depending

on

choral what

or you

think of

your own

—

Is it random ?

extroverting

gung -

ho

human / & glitter

Exhausted

go -ahead

surge

?

?

73

does Since because

your

passion

also possess

a

belongs to

the

fate ?

of its nature ,

this

distance

air . — Since

,

because of

its

engines

( slant

angels with enigma vowels ) this distance beats

also , to

upstart swanswell

a ,

float

eternity

improvise

among them in

part

( it seems to )

—

And

might this day now losing might this

day now

itself to the ebbing construction of this morning , finding

more

parts

of

itself

foresquaring architectures

74

of

this afternoon

name

inside

distance to

also

silt

which

sediments ,

seems

drift

more ,

towards If

some

anyone

might

?

want

to

dig

in some off

which

all

want the

to

nots

Like the lovers , leaning

farther ?

If

slipknot —

forward

on elbows , feel more than

a little welterweight of

fear , some

parts of God are more sedimental

as

75

they pass

,

,

,

,

,

And shall I keep

trying to translate this distance to call it further to me ? it

And anyhow isn’t

also that

air

and eternity , might each be

wanting

to come closer in ?

summer

76

2000

–

march 2010

Not On Its Own

,

sounding

like a guilt

:

—

77

Quick Draft 2

so , it mixes one soul and sand traps ’ barronesses no children peer perhaps you

no work sweeping the lighthouse out , to the fields — fathoms serve bouncy

78

partner

— and

severe

—

A Physics of Desire

at first she thinks the attraction does not fill her with enough blood , but with a thing like the dove — White and coloured feathers — Bones unlike her own bones that gravity can’t pull down , a milky thing unlike the sea . Fills her with a wind — Starch rustle of the quick passing of things , then silence afterwards of the things that passed — that gave the wind its sound , not unlike what split the fireworks in the high school park into fanning particles of flame . The peacock that is the world , bird of breathing colour between them — Bird that is everything to choose from — or the one thing , sacred bone of the particular

—

79

In the Bee Latitudes 2

Looking for you tends to give me Modigliani eyes —the kind that try to disappear beneath a skirt , part of the position of the world which shows its glory not apart from bees and twirls your ripe-nether aspects underneath my petticoats in a peach-like upraising bees come to — They tremble after you have left , as much unknown to me visible as invisible , hating that you keep me staring straight out into the air I’ve felt I come from , in part , plucking at the wide hair loops about your eyelids— Bees don ’ t disappear except at night because they defend the future it grows— Why not stay ? I notice you don’t have Modigliani eyes yourself — Have I told you the bees appear with a humour fishhooking itself into the eyes I’m getting from the sea , from so much looking out at the sea throughout the edges of my eyes that’s how they defend themselves ? Modigliani himself had eyes which thought they stared straight into the bees but had aimed themselves in-

stead into the belly of the air still almost as much unknown to us visible as invisible , thinking it a hive — Not unreasonable given that religion is having relationships with real unknown ones in you my senses want to be involved so I won’t be inclined to uncreate the beginning of my body an opus trying to pay its bills in a departure from usual figuring— Why not stay ? Bees aren’t sorry for the bride even on her slow days , not sorry for the fishermen who know how deftly like a puzzle our accounting has been done — If someone has been commanding you to vanish as the smoke of my father’s cigars made tobacco wrapped around itself disappear at the same time it was burning air , I invoke her or him to stop it with the painful detail which figures out creative ways to pay its bills— You think I ’m more visible here in my insistence than in my life ? Eye for an eye I ’ m going to tantalize and excruciate you with asking then let it disappear low over the brown terrain before it gets to the sea interrupted with bees watching , among the taupe tree limbs twisting all over the land almost like punctuation marks but not yet like you , an exclamation point of sorts , a code of sorts I see like an eyebrow no horizon which registers better dappling the very bee-shade —

Curved Over the River

Arno , only the twilight on

to

how than evated

82

much

‘ mush ’ bank caught more

el risk

—

it

was

‡ ° § £ ¢ ∞ §

the haloes on the Barbizon night lanterns have been given buckets in the interior

intensity

bright emerald

interplay — nights notice ; lamplight thickens — in

our lifetime

sensations somely interplay

fear-

arc flesh-

fresh harbours aren’t virginal until they ’ ve been launched —

83

Concerning the Ode to a Focus Then a Free Fall

— Or if the wind in the air did graze a particular gesture to which I say belongs , was it only the air and its wind with bees in it which gave the moment its ‘ eternity ’ ? So near me the bees are landing ( which my last daisies are still extending their summer upon ) who seem to be removing more of the summer , like a moment touching

the

skin

from

side

to side , enclosing me , , — so I could not be falling could I

84

; if a focus , I mean , attaching even to

a moment , lifted out from the grass newly cut because I wanted to make more lawn and a park , eventually across from the sounds of murmuring getting louder , as night by the river we were sitting so near to on the picnic table benches

was growing in and towards us , from side to side , would it enclose

me only ? So near the bees are hovering , looking out from some eternity in which so much looseness also lives , then down from the classical fast wing sounds of this hummingbird , now whirring past — Or also enclose you , , ? Looking up from the kind of moment that starts pushing itself up through a throat , over your tongue

before it begins coming out

85

as a piece of eternity at least in part , , also tearing its course away from the large head

cumulus cloudlife afterlife over-

and its absence of

sounds ? —

And if a particular moment did strike the last daisies

bees are now on beneath these unblurring cloudclumps over head like allies since we are lying down beneath them , each of us somewhere inside our ( own ) skin , you at times , inside my body which the newly cut lawn its incipience imprint smell do not adhere on

yet —though through you all

86

I am moving , through all of you I am being moved — can my looking at the bushel with orchard -apples in it recently picked , and at some bees

in their live clear air with the wind

in it , and at

the river through this even ing always incoming always moving against this evanescing of this afternoon be a moment

from

which a whole river can be

heard turning its own animal , its light

on , where the river is not damaged , and its riverness is not hurt ?

87

This page intentionally left blank

Acknowledgments

Dandelions for the Threnody

Volt

In the Bee Latitudes

Volt

In the Bee Latitudes 2

Volt

Ode to the Surfacing

Five Fingers Review

A Physics of Desire

The Denver Quarterly

And I Do Desire Your Looking Back

The Boston Review

Structure — Masolino ’ s Eve — The Female Snake

Lana Turner: A Journal of Poetry and Opinion

Concerning the Ode to a Focus Then a Free Fall

Lana Turner: A Journal of Poetry and Opinion

I Felt a Fierce Unfreedom

Lana Turner: A Journal of Poetry and Opinion

The Be Thou Gaia Pastoral Air

Lana Turner: A Journal of Poetry and Opinion # 2

No Unconceiving Cave

OmniVerse

89

This page intentionally left blank

Notes

“ Structure—Masolino ’ s Eve—The Female Snake ” was inspired by Florence , and the mysterious fresco by Masolino in the Brancacci Chapel , entitled “ The Temptation . ” The picture enacts the garden-of-eden moment in which the Snake speaks to Eve —in this case , the snake has the head of a woman with wavy blond hair , almost prefiguring a flapper from the 1920s . “ In the Bee Latitudes ” is indebted to 1) an experience of bliss in infancy before the arrival of words ; and 2 ) Virgil — translating parts of the the Aeneid in 1971 , the arrival of some expanding pleasure I couldn’t name . ( Maybe beauty . ) “ Midnight Address from the President ” concerns former President Bush , 2001 , in the winter before he began his War . I I — The translation of the first words of Dante ’ s The Divine Comedy is by Henry Johnson . “ Quick Draft ” refers to ‘ descripture ,’ a word I thought I ’ d made up . Discovered afterwards in Jean-François Lyotard ’ s The inhuman : reflections on time , Lyotard defines ‘ descripture / decriture ’ as : “the writing of the impossible description , ” adding , among other things , ‘ it tries to slip by before its withdrawal. ’ “ I Felt a Fierce Unfreedom ” : parruchiere is the italian hairdresser . The piazza referred to here is the Piazza della Signoria , which sponsors the fountain with the Neptune statue and fauns . The location is the turn-of-the century cafe on the piazza , the Revoire . “ The Concept Death Was Walking Around This Pill Sentence Structure ” refers to the sleeping pill , Ambien, and the ‘ mood ’ relaxer , Ativan , known also as an hypnotic . 91

“ It Has Been Given Me To Understand Bats ” quotes part of a poem by Jack Spicer from My Vocabulary Did This to Me , Language (1963–1965 ) , entitled “ Morphemics . ” The italian pippistrella is the feminine form of ‘ bat .’ They swarm visibly from the horizon just after dusk . The piazza referred to in “ No Unconceiving Cave ” is the Piazza della Repubblica , said to be the exact center of the city , Florence . Historically , this center began as the Jewish ghetto . Dolcezza is another italian term for sweetness . The fires refer to the literal fire I set accidentally / unconsciously . In Iowa , the December 1993 solstice . My beloved cat Sarah , who had been recently saved from feline leukemia by state of the art drugs , was smothered in the fumes . In “ The Be Thou Gaia Pastoral Air , ” Be thou Gaia is an admonition taken from a dream , 1986 , administered by a tall goddess figure in black ; at that time there was no visible face . It is also a requiem for an elk I hit on the Taos Highway at night . After collision , the wounded animal was nevertheless able to cross the highway , disappearing into the forest . Animal services were not able to find him . It is also for SS , and AS . “ A Physics of Desire ” is indebted to the peacock , up in the Sangre di Cristo mountains , just across the street , who sang ( howled out ) his being , every single night . It is also for ML , and more lately for CM . “ ‡ ° § £ ¢ ∞ § the haloes on the Barbizon night lanterns ” is for BH , with love . “ Concerning the Ode to a Focus then a Free Fall ” is for J L , time-travelled from 1972 and 1984/5 — ‘ Til next time . ’ From whom a necessary advocating desire was born . May you and yours , your ‘ forest fires , in shifting winds ’ be well always . This poem is also for CM .

92

My Thanks

Thank you to the dear hearts in Florence , Italy , at the Cafe Revoire , and the Hotel Savoy , who encouraged me in my cafe writing , let me stay late , and gave me , continually , their most affectionate friendship and service . Thank you to my dear friend Annalisa of Florence for her presence , her endless encouragement and belief . Thank you to Inger , Laura , Laura G. , and Raffaella for their companionship , dining , singing and dancing , talking into the late summer nights near the olive and fig orchards , and to Elizabeth who introduced us . Thank you to Brenda Hillman for finding a “pleasing arrangement” for the poems . Thank you to Susan McCabe for her belief , her wild and dear encouragement. More thanks to Dr. Pat Sargent in Taos for her encouragement , and my astonished gratitude for the LA doctors and healers , including Dr. Philomena McAndrew , Dr. Jing , and Sri Mahdu , Dr. Nancy Goldman , and for every nurse at Tower Hematology and Oncology including Mary Lou , Pia and Bill , helping me fight cancer , lately discovered.

93

N e w C a l i for n i a P oet r y

edited by

Robert Hass Calvin Bedient Brenda Hillman Forrest Gander

For, by Carol Snow Enola Gay, by Mark Levine Selected Poems, by Fanny Howe Sleeping with the Dictionary, by Harryette Mullen Commons, by Myung Mi Kim The Guns and Flags Project, by Geoffrey G. O’Brien Gone, by Fanny Howe Why/Why Not, by Martha Ronk A Carnage in the Lovetrees, by Richard Greenfield The Seventy Prepositions, by Carol Snow Not Even Then, by Brian Blanchfield Facts for Visitors, by Srikanth Reddy Weather Eye Open, by Sarah Gridley Subject, by Laura Mullen This Connection of Everyone with Lungs, by Juliana Spahr The Totality for Kids, by Joshua Clover The Wilds, by Mark Levine I Love Artists, by Mei-mei Berssenbrugge Harm., by Steve Willard Green and Gray, by Geoffrey G. O’Brien The Age of Huts (compleat), by Ron Silliman Selected Poems, 1974–2006: it’s go in horizontal, by Leslie Scalapino rimertown/an atlas, by Laura Walker Ours, by Cole Swensen Virgil and the Mountain Cat: Poems, by David Lau

Sight Map: Poems, by Brian Teare Transcendental Studies: A Trilogy, by Keith Waldrop R’s Boat, by Lisa Robertson Green is the Orator, by Sarah Gridley Writing the Silences, by Richard O. Moore Voyager, by Srikanth Reddy Dark Archive, by Laura Mullen Metropole, by Geoffrey O’Brien The Banjo Clock, by Karen Garthe In the Bee Latitudes, by ’Annah Sobelman Gravesend, by Cole Swensen

Text and display Garamond Premier Pro Compositor BookMatters, Berkeley Printer and binder Maple-Vail Book ManufacturingGroup Q